


Afternoon Delight

by sciencemyfiction



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M, asphyxiation play, borrowing Thundercaya's canon, performance anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 14:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencemyfiction/pseuds/sciencemyfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin has come by to visit Steve Carlsburg on urgent business, and things turn a bit more toward pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afternoon Delight

It starts innocently enough; Kevin appears at his door bearing- to Steve's unending surprise- completely ordinary looking paperwork that he professes to have stolen from some of the buildings he has access to in Desert Bluffs, prior to escaping the city limits and coming by to visit. His grin is unwavering, though he glances over his shoulder, once or twice, until Steve invites him in. The files, which Steve is very interested in, are set aside once Steve has closed his door, and Kevin asks,

"Are your windows still sound-proofed?"

"Uh, no," Steve does his best not to look surprised. "Why?"

It escalates very quickly. Kevin is a force of nature when he wants to be, in a deadly but horrifically enticing sort of way. He doesn't explain himself, doesn't even straighten the files where he set them down on Steve's kitchen counter-top. 

He unzips his jacket, saying, "It's warm in here, isn't it, Steve?" and slides it off of his arms right-to-left in one smooth motion that leaves him standing a step closer to Steve in Steve's cramped little kitchen, back pressed to the oven, presented with the sense-memory of other times Kevin has been this close and less clothed. It's a little overwhelming. Steve reaches back, braces himself with a hand on the stovetop that accidentally flips one of the switches that controls the back burner. The smell of heating metal doesn't faze him. 

"Uh, if we're going to do something about that maybe we should--"

Kevin steps forward one more step, and now they're pressed chest to chest and Steve is feeling wildly inadequate, because he's been out in the heat for hours today chasing after invisible bees at Josie's place and he hasn't showered yet, he wasn't all that clean to begin with, he hasn't shaved, his clothes are rumpled and askew on him and somehow Kevin manages to look-- clean, pressed, perfect, he smells faintly like fresh water, his t-shirt beneath his jacket is somehow dressier than Steve's soggy uniform, and when Kevin's hands itch forward, working up the buttons of Steve's shirt to undo them, it, him, well, Steve doesn't really have defense for that, doesn't have words or anything except a hiss and, "Oh, okay, uh-- okay, let's-- let's keep going, then."

Somewhere between the kitchen and the bedroom, Kevin pins Steve to the washer, which he fumbles around on until he finds his balance and his strength, grabs Kevin by the hips and reorients their position. Kevin's back pushes in the switch to start the washing cycle. They don't notice. 

The bedroom isn't big enough for all the things Steve wants to do, because even though his bed is big enough for two, it doesn't have arm chairs they could read books in together, it doesn't have room for any of the weird kinky stuff that flashes through his mind when he and Kevin do their, well, thing. That they. Do. Uh. 

"Uh--!" Kevin is unzipping Steve's pants, shoving them impatiently down, heedless of the fact that they, and his underwear, are the only article of clothing Steve has left. Kevin, by contrast, is mostly dressed, and Steve feels the need to point it out, even though it does still the quick, thoughtful hand that's fondling him from going any further. "I seem to kind of, uh, recall you being warm earlier, maybe you-- should get undressed too, while you're at it?"

Kevin's smile is always beatific, but in that moment Steve is pretty sure it reaches Kevin's black as pitch eyes. Probably. "That's a thoughtful suggestion." In undressing Steve, Kevin's hands are deft but never rough; he rips his own clothing off, yanking the t-shirt over his head without heed for the way it makes his chest pull tight, the musculature of his body on full display for anyone who might be watching through Steve's window. It's only four in the afternoon, Steve thinks, so chances are they won't have any unexpected company. Kevin makes even shorter work of his pants, and he's not wearing anything under them, and he doesn't seem the slightest bit self conscious about standing in full view of the window. His attention is still fully on Steve. "Why don't you sit down?"

He does, on the edge of the bed. Kevin crawls into his lap before Steve has time to think twice; Kevin is close and hot and completely in control as he bears down on Steve with hands around his throat, knees around Steve's waist. He squeezes, and rocks his hips, until Steve's vision spots, his larynx aching. It hurts, but not very much, and Kevin is watching Steve's face, watching his eyes for the slow bubbling of confusion as the air doesn't come and doesn't come. He's helpless, his hands weak and barely holding their place at Kevin's hips. 

Steve is hard as a rock. 

Kevin brushes his own cock along Steve's, squeezes their hips tighter together, and starts rocking into him. He occasionally lets up on the pressure at Steve's throat-- not much, not for long, just enough to breathe-- and mostly, he grinds their cocks together in a cruel tease, not quite giving either of them friction. Steve's head is swimming and his vision is liberally spotted by the time he takes the hint, lifts his right hand sluggishly, and gets a grip on the situation. The sensation of Kevin shuddering above him rivals the sensation of feeling Kevin's cock in the palm of his hand, slick against his own cock. 

They rock together, until Steve is skating the line of conscious and not, and comes with a little choked whisper. His hand stops mid stroke, choking their cocks as hard as Kevin is choking him, and apparently that does it for Kevin, because he lets out a high, sugary sweet noise and pushes up into it, demanding more.

They fall back on the bed, Kevin grinding into Steve's hand as he moves his own hands to Steve's shoulders, gripping them tight enough that his fingernails dig in. 

"Tell me what you need, Kevin," Steve rasps, hoarse and red in the face and trying not to think about how Kevin asked if the place was soundproof. He gets determined to make Kevin noisy, on some point of pride, and leans in to lick the pert, brown nub of a nipple in the middle of Kevin's dark, heaving chest. His nipples are the same neutral color as his lips, and they're sensitive as Steve might've hoped, given the way he throws his head back and warbles praise when Steve starts licking them. It's like that, still riding in Steve's lap, in Steve's hand, with Steve's mouth on his nipple, that Kevin comes. 

Afterwards, they lie there together in an awkward pile on the bed. Kevin is blissed out and smiling radiantly. Steve is waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

"You asked about the soundproofing," he finally says, dreading the answer. "Why is that?"

"Stella's sitting outside," Kevin answers with a shrug, dismissive. "I wasn't sure if she's heard you have sex before."

"She- she hasn't," Steve stammers, as the horror starts to dawn on him. It's much too late, of course. 

" _ **Hadn't**_ ," corrects an irate, familiar voice that in all likelihood belongs to his daughter. 

Steve covers his face, and wills time to rewind itself for the third time that day. As with the previous two, it doesn't work, as far as he knows. He settles for groaning pathetically, and refusing to let Kevin out of bed instead to comfort himself. Whether Stella will forgive him or not will take days to sort out, anyway. 

"I'm never forgiving you for this, dad!" Stella's voice says, clearly, as if she can read minds. "Of course I can read minds, I cast the ESP spell, dad! Ugh, I can't believe you!"

Steve gives up on the rest of the day in advance, and thinks loudly about sex until his daughter makes a loud noise of disgust and tells him firmly that she's leaving and won't be back until the weekend.


End file.
